


A Terrible Night

by amaronith



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, Mary Jane Watson is not here for your bullshit Peter Parker, Not Beta Read Because Carpe Diem, Past Peter/MJ, Peter and MJ are besties and roommates that's really all you need to know, Peter has gross eating habits, canon? What's canon?, food as lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith/pseuds/amaronith
Summary: It's a bad night to be a hero in this town. Or maybe it's just them.





	A Terrible Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torrential](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential/gifts).



> I started this ages ago and finished it like, five seconds ago because torrential has been having a rough time, lately, and she got me into SpideyDevil and what better way to make your friends feel better than with porn?
> 
> As far as comics Canon goes, who the fuck knows.

He drags his half dead ass into the apartment through the window he had left open at the beginning of the night, and he can feel the blood drying tacky on his skin as his wounds start to knit themselves back together as he staggers into the kitchen, stripping out of his ruined costume on the way there and leaving the torn, scorched, bloody bits of cloth on the floor to be picked on on his way back to the bedroom later. He groans in agony when the motion sensor in the light in the kitchen picks up on his movements and floods the room with light, leaving him standing on the tile in nothing but his boxer briefs and web shooters and squinting until the brightness stops hurting so much (he remembers MJ asking about it - apparently it had been put in by a previous tenant who had a very old cat with poor eyesight, and they had it put in so he could find his way to his food dish at night).  
  
Once the light no longer makes him wish for death, he eats two cans of Spaghettios with meatballs cold right from the cans with a plastic fork left over from the last time they had ordered in food, and he can practically  _see_  MJ scrunching her nose in disgust in his mind's eye. He's scraping at the bottom of the second can when the light goes out behind him and he sighs. Flailing his arm uselessly behind him to try and turn the light back on fails to work after several minutes and he groans before realizing  _everything_ is pitch black. There is no light from the streets coming in through the windows except moonlight, and even the refrigerator has stopped humming.  
  
He groans, finishing off the last of the Spaghettios before setting the can down on the island counter with a  _clack_ and just… gives up on standing, slumping down to the floor to feel the cool tile press against his overheated, still healing skin.  
  
"Tonight fucking  _blows_ ," He complains to the empty apartment.  
  
"Yeah, probably," The apartment answers back, and Peter blinks.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
He’s scrambling to his feet before he makes out the shape in the dark as his eyes get used to the dim lighting in the room, the soft silver light from the full moon filtering in from his windows highlights the horns atop the cowl, the billy clubs at his hips… and the arm hanging uselessly at his side.  
  
“…Daredevil?”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
Peter scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus. How long have you been there? Did MJ see you?”  
  
“You know as well as I do that she’s not here. I came in a few minutes ago.” Matt tilts his head toward the two cans on the kitchen island Peter had been leaning against to eat. “You really should eat better, Peter.”  
  
Peter snorts rudely, shoving a hand through his hair and no doubt making it stick up all over the place. He doesn’t have the energy for this. “Why are you here, Matt?”  
  
Matt indicates his shoulder, the arm hanging at his side. “Dislocated.”  
  
“And you came to me and not your nurse friend because…?” Even as he asks this, Peter is moving to Matt’s side to help him put his shoulder back in place. The things he does for this asshole…  
  
“You were closer.”  
  
“How the hell did you even get up here like this?” Peter wonders aloud, though the question is rhetorical - it’s  _Matt_ , after all, of course he found a way to climb in through a seventh story window without making a sound with a dislocated arm. Of  _course_.  
  
Matt shrugs his good shoulder carelessly as Peter carefully holds Matt’s arm. “Pra- _ahn!_ -practice.”  
  
“Please don’t make sex noises while I’m setting your shoulder, Magoo,” Peter mutters dryly.  
  
“I’d hate to have your sex life if you can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure,” Matt groans as Peter pops his shoulder back into place. “Ah- _fuck!_ ”  
  
“I don’t  _have_  a sex life, DD.”  
  
“Then I’d  _really_ hate to have yours,” Matt says with a grin over his shoulder at Peter, the moonlight catching the faint sheen of sweat on the skin of Matt’s jaw.  
  
“Blow me,” Peter mutters bitterly as he pushes Matt away and heads to the freezer to get The Injury Peas (MJ had come in one time to see him using them as an ice pack and and promptly declared she was  _not_  going to eat those, and he can continue to use them instead of the other food in the freezer for his injuries and proceeded to label the bag with a frowny face in black sharpie).  
  
“If it would make you feel better.”  
  
Peter throws the bag of peas at Matt’s head. “You are such a-! No, you know what? Yes. Yes, it _would_ make me feel better after getting  _blown up_.” He turns his back to Matt to fish out a bottle of water from the fridge and slams the door shut quickly to keep everything as cold as possible until the power comes back on. He’s about to take a drink when he feels a soft puff of breath against his neck, and hands sliding carefully around his waist. “…Matt?”  
  
“You asked…” Matt murmurs against Peter’s throat. He’s taken off his cowl and is carefully nosing behind Peter’s ear as his hands move down to Peter’s hips as he directs Peter over to the kitchen island.  
  
“That I did,” Peter says weakly, turning in Matt’s grip as he feels more than sees Matt sinking to his knees and Matt’s breath is hot against Peter’s skin as he mouths at Peter’s already half-hard cock through his underwear. Peter wobbles, hands scrabbling back behind him to brace himself against the island counter, sending one of the empty cans on the counter top clattering to the floor as his knees go weak from Matt’s teasing open-mouthed kisses and gentle strokes. “I- _oh God_   _Matt_ \- I know you get a perverse sort of joy out of my suffering, but if you could stop being such a  _damn tease_ , I’d really appreciate it.”  
  
Matt chuckles, fingers curling under the waistband of Peter’s boxer-briefs and tugs them down his legs. “Pushy pushy…”  
  
“Well, I haven’t been laid in… wow. Longer than I care to admit to.”  
  
Matt grins up at Peter. “Let’s reset that counter, huh?” And with that, Matt takes Peter’s entire cock into his mouth, the head of it just pressing against the back of his throat as Matt swallows around him.  
  
“ _Jesus Christ!_ ”  
  
Matt hums around Peter as he bobs his head, pinning his hips in place, thumbs stroking Peter’s hipbones, and Peter can't help but bury his hand in Matt's hair and fucking into that sinfully red mouth - gently, because he is a gentleman and also because he is way more worried about what Matt would do to him in retaliation than he will ever admit to aloud. Matt pulls off his cock with a lewd  _pop_ and grins. “You want to fuck my face?”  
  
Peter stares at him. “...you didn't suddenly get mindreading powers, did you?”  
  
“Nope,” Matt pops the “p” almost obnoxiously as he coaxes Peter to step out of his underwear. “But you were holding my head like you wanted to fuck my face. So this is me, telling you to fuck my face.”  
  
“What if I don't want to?” Peter asks, just to be a dick. “What if I just want to fuck you, instead?”  
  
Matt's eyebrow quirks up, like he thinks Peter’s being quaint. “Peter. My plan is for you to fuck my face, so you’ll be nice and relaxed when I fuck you over your counter.”  
  
Apparently Peter  _was_ being quaint. All righty then. “Uh.”  
  
Matt took Peter’s cock in his mouth again and Peter forgets himself, a little, and thrusts deep into Matt's mouth, choking him a little.  
  
It's not that Peter hates it when Matt talks, because Matt's got a nice voice that pairs well with him being a fast talker -- it’s what makes him such a good lawyer -- but Matt's mouth could be put to better uses at the moment.  
  
Like sucking Peter’s brains out through his dick.  
  
He can't bury both hands in Matt's hair without risking falling on the guy, so he buries one hand in those silky red strands and plants the other on the countertop to keep himself upright as he fucks into Matt's mouth, harder and rougher than he had when he and MJ used to do this, before they became Just Friends.  
  
Peter comes down Matt's throat before he even realizes what’s happening. “ _Matt!_ ”  
  
Matt slurps noisily around Peter's dick, making a show of licking him clean before suddenly he's standing, and that's when Peter is reminded that Matt does have a few inches on him in height, and Matt kisses him, and Peter tastes himself on Matt's tongue and he never really thought about how hot that had made him before, apparently, until it was another man kissing him.  
  
“Do you have any olive oil I can use?” Matt murmurs against Peter's mouth in-between kisses, like Matt can't bear to stop kissing Peter for longer than is absolutely necessary and, yeah, he’s into it, he is absolutely into it, holy  _shit_.  
  
“Huh?” He says, that famous quick wit utterly failing him in the dark of blackout orgasms.  
  
“Olive oil.” More kissing, the slick glide of tongue against tongue, and Peter's dick twitching with renewed interest between them. “Do you have any I can use?”  
  
“Oh. Uh. Counter behind you? Square bottle, on the left.” Matt turns away to grab the bottle and sniffs it with a pleased noise before setting it down on the island.  
  
Maybe he’ll get lucky and MJ will forgive him for using her fancy, expensive olive oil to get laid quickly.  
  
“Turn around,” Matt orders, peeling out of his suit.  
  
“We could take this to the bedroom, you know?”  
  
“For round three.”  
  
Peter stares, blinking owlishly. “Round three?”  
  
Matt's grin is bright in the dark. “Round two is when I fuck you in the shower.”  
  
Oh. Well then. “Yes, sir,” Peter says, again, just to be a dick. He’s not expecting Matt's sudden, sharp inhale.  
  
“Oh Peter… don't call me that if you're not willing to go through with it.”  
  
“Maybe for round five,” he replies cheekily, letting out a startled  _eep!_  when Matt turns him around and bends him over the kitchen island in a swift, sudden motion that sends the second empty spaghettios can to join the first on the floor. “Ah-Matt!”  
  
“Does my sweet boy want me to spank him for his sass?” Matt's voice is a low, dark purr in Peter’s ear as he grabs Peter’s ass.  
  
“No!” Only that's a lie, and Matt  _knows_ that's a lie- “Not this time,” he amends, quickly, and Matt's laugh in his ear makes Peter whimper.  
  
“Mm. I like it when you're honest.” Matt bites his ear, and then something cool and slippery is dripping down Peter's ass crack, and, yeah, that feels  _weird_ , not like normal lube at all. “Maybe I should spank you, anyway. Make you count them for me.”  
  
Matt’s fingers rub gently at Peter's hole, half asking for permission and half courtesy, it feels like. Peter’s not really in the mood for  _courtesy_. “I think all that time in Catholic School did something to your libido, Magoo.”  
  
Matt's laugh at that is brighter and he bites playfully at Peter's ear. “Maybe.” And with that he presses his finger in Peter and, yeah, this is  _definitely_ new territory, but  _holy shit_ is he into it.  
  
He thinks, maybe, that his moaning is encouraging Matt a little  _too_  much when there's another splash of oil on his ass, but then Matt is pressing another finger inside him and twisting and Peter curses feelingly into the Formica top of the kitchen island as Matt purrs “ _good boy_ ” in his ear.  
  
There's a dangerous sounding creaking noise from where he's gripping the kitchen island when Matt is up to three fingers that has the fucker  _laughing_ at him. “I take it you like this?”  
  
“ _Matt_ ,” Peter warns, though it comes out more like a plea, and then Matt is pulling his fingers out and the fucker is  _laughing again_ at the pitiful mewl Peter makes in response.  
  
“I know, I know - don't worry, Peter, I haven't abandoned you.” There's the sound of more oil being poured out - the whole kitchen smells like it, he  _really_  owes MJ big for this - and Matt's soft grunt as he slicks himself, and then he’s pressing inside of Peter and it's bigger than anything Peter’s ever had inside of him (the biggest before this whole thing being two of Felicia's fingers while she had given him a blow job and he’d been too distracted by her deepthroating skills to really appreciate how it felt at the time), and Peter must've let out a whine, because then Matt's rubbing an oily hand down Peter’s flank, murmuring soothingly at him as though Peter were a panicked animal rather than having his first Big Gay Experience, which honestly might be the same thing for most straight guys, who knew. He was super into this, did he even count as straight anymore? Was he bisexual now? “Just breathe through it, Pete, you’re okay…”  
  
“ _Fuuuuuuuck_ ,” Peter hisses when Matt's bottomed out inside of him.  
  
Matt nuzzled behind his ear. “I had assumed you’ve done this before.”  
  
“ _Why_ would you  _assume_  that?!”  
  
“Well, you  _did_  ask me to blow you,” Matt says, almost conversationally, as though he  _isn't_ buried balls deep in Peter's ass and they're just chatting about the weather. “And, you know, there's all those rumors about you and the Torch.”  
  
It's a little too easy to picture it, now that Matt put the idea in his head, and it makes Peter shiver. “Johnny’s -  _hfff!_ \- not my type…”  
  
“No? What  _is_ your type, Pete?”  
  
Peter grins, knowing Matt can't see it but could probably hear him doing it all the same. “I’ve always been partial to redheads.”  
  
Matt snorts, but he seems pleased as he pulls out to thrust in again, this time a little faster, and Peter curses when he shifts  _just so_  and it's like pleasure zings up his spine and Peter’s shout echoes in the empty apartment. “There we go, much better,” Matt mutters, kissing the nape of Peter’s neck, and Peter is only half sure Matt is talking to himself.  
  
Then he starts to move again, faster and faster until Peter is grunting with each motion of Matt's hips, the air being forced from his lungs because it almost feels like there's no room for anything inside him except Matt's cock.  
  
Matt pulls away and Peter only as a moment to miss the warmth and feel of him before he’s being lifted and flipped and his legs go over Matt's shoulders as Matt slides home again and starts jerking Peter off with his oil slick hand, and Peter’s vision goes white when he comes, feeling his jizz land on his chest in heavy ropes as he hears a  _crunch_ above his head where he’s gripping the island countertop. He still can't see as Matt finishes inside him and, okay,  _that_ is not a feeling he likes  _at all_ , and there's oil  _glugglugglug_ ging sluggishly into his hair.  
  
“Sister Mary Roberts was right - gay sex made me blind,” Peter groans, his hands relaxing and  _something_  hits the floor with a  _thump_ , but he can't really bring himself to care what it is at the moment.  
  
“You didn't go blind,” Matt murmurs, slipping out of Peter. “The power  _is_  back on, however.”  
  
Peter blinks his eyes repeated to find that, yes, the all consuming whiteness of his vision really was just the kitchen light, and he sits up, absently righting the bottle of olive oil and noting with a wince that they had used a good chunk of it. MJ was gonna kill him for that. “Ugh, I need to clean up in here…”  
  
“Shower first, then bed. I’ll pay for a cleaning service in the morning.”  
  
“You're staying?” Peter asks, a little mortified with himself over how hopeful he sounded. Really, have sex with a guy once and now he's all  _attached_. Matt Murdock was not the kind of man who stuck around for morning afters. Or, at least, Daredevil didn't seem like the type.  
  
“I was promised that I’d get to spank you,” Matt murmurs, pulling Peter into a slow, heated kiss. “Come on, I’ll wash your hair for you.” He helps Peter down off the island countertop, seemingly unable to keep his hands to himself as Peter guides them both into the bathroom.  
  
They never  _do_  manage to get to round five.  
  
\--  
  
“Peter, I’m home!” Mary Jane says as she closes the door. “It was so late by the time last night's blackout ended I just stayed over my friend's place. Peter? Are you up?”  
  
Peter groans into the shoulder of his bedmate, who grunts in reply.  
  
“Peter?” MJ calls again, her voice suddenly sounding terrified, and that gets Peter sitting upright with a reluctant groan.  
  
“I’m up, I’m up,” he says around his loud yawn.  
  
“ _Peter Benjamin Parker you had better be alive in there or I’ll kill you myself!_ ” MJ yells as she throws open his bedroom door.  
  
“Hey, MJ. Good cast party?”  
  
“What the fuck happened to the  _kitchen?!_  And the living room - Peter what the  _hell?!_ ”  
  
Peter blinks at her, desperately trying to get his brain into some semblance of functional without coffee. “Um.”  
  
“Well, I know the kitchen is partly my fault,” Matt says, sitting upright. “Did we really leave it in a bad way? I didn't notice.”  
  
“ _HOW COULD YOU MISS THAT_?” MJ’s nearly screaming at them, and Peter is very impressed by how Matt isn't at least wincing from the pitch.  
  
“Matt, don't- don't do that to MJ, that's not nice.”  
  
“... _Daredevil_ is a  _blind guy_?” MJ hisses, and Peter feels Matt tense up next to him.  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“You left your suits in the kitchen and the living room!” She whisper-yells, stabbing a well-manicured nail in the direction of the carnage.  
  
The suit that Peter had gotten blown up in. Whoops. No wonder Mary Jane sounded so scared before.  
  
“Sorry, Mary Jane,” Matt says, actually sounding like he means it this time.  
  
“So, what, you seriously mean to tell me you two had, what, a hot night vigilante superhero-ing that you decided to end with some Greek wrestling and  _that’s_ why the kitchen island is broken?”  
  
“...we  _really_  didn't notice that we had broken it. It  _was_ my first foray into gay sex, after all.”  
  
Mary Jane stares at them for a long moment. “...I don't know if I want to punch you or give you a high five, Tiger,” she groans as she covers her face with one hand. “Damn it, _I_   _eat there_.”  
  
“I owe you more of that fancy olive oil, by the way.”  
  
“If it helps,” Matt speaks up before MJ can throttle Peter dead where he sits. “I did offer to at least pay for a cleaning service. I can pay for part of the repairs to the kitchen island, as well.”  
  
“Damn fucking  _right you are_. Ugh.” MJ crosses her arms as she glares. “Your boyfriend staying for brunch? By which I mean we are going out to eat because no one is eating in that kitchen until it's been decontaminated.”  
  
“He’s not my-”  
  
“I’d love to join you both if you’ll just let me run home to change?” Matt rubs sheepishly - maybe self-consciously? - at the scarring at the corner of his eye. “I, ah, don't like going out in public without my glasses if I can help it.”  
  
“Peter will text you the address.”  
  
The three of them look at each other (or a little to the left, in Matt's case) for a long moment before Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Are you going t-?”  
  
“No,” she says, cutting him off sharply. “I think I earned a bit of eye candy, don't you?”  
  
“...as the lady wishes,” Matt says with a shrug before tossing the covers back and slowly making his way back towards the kitchen where he left the Daredevil suit.  
  
MJ leans back to watch him before she walks over to Peter and sits down at the foot of his bed. “ _Nice_. Good job, Tiger.” She startles at Matt's sharp bark of laughter and Peter snickers into his arms.  
  
“Yeah, he, uh. He has super hearing. So he heard that.”  
  
MJ rolls her eyes. “Whatever, you still have the nicer butt. And that is not personal bias - BuzzFeed has a list of nicest superhero asses. Spidey’s was number one, followed by Captain America’s. Daredevil’s was third.”  
  
“BuzzFeed isn't real journalism. I refuse to allow my ass to be judged by the same people who make 'we can guess your favorite John Hughes movie based on your snack tastes’ quizzes,” Matt says with a sniff as he stands in the doorway, tugging the cowl on.  
  
“It’s Sixteen Candles,” Peter tells MJ, because right now his fear of  _her_ retribution is greater than his fear of Matt’s.  
  
“Yes, but  _they_  don't know that,” Matt sniffs dismissively.  
  
He starts to move toward the window when MJ clears her throat pointedly. “What, no goodbye kiss for your boyfriend?”  
  
“We're not- MJ he’s not my-” Peter stammers, only to be cut off when Matt saunters over to him and kisses him, long and deep and Peter’s thankful he’s already sitting down because a kiss like that would make his knees give out.  
  
“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Matt murmurs against his mouth.  
  
“Y-yeah. Later.”  
  
Peter and MJ both watch as Matt climbs out the window and swings off into broad daylight. MJ turns to him, looking smug.  
  
“You were saying?”  
  
“Nothing. I was saying nothing.”  
  
MJ holds out her fist, and Peter knocks his own against it gently, still reeling a bit.  
  
Apparently he and Matt were dating now. Awesome.  
  
Now if only he could survive brunch with his two favorite redheads.

**Author's Note:**

> If there is any edits made to this after the original posting date (July 29, 2017), it is to fix formatting errors because I am posting with my phone.


End file.
